


just around the corner, might be waiting your own true love

by janie_tangerine



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Disney, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, I Blame Tumblr, M/M, Multi, Robb Stark is a Gift, Romance, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, True Love, True Love's Kiss, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, the enchanted reverse au you didn't know you needed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 23:37:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7594795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which Theon has to make peace with the fact that his fiancé Jon has a <i>true love</i> who came from some whacky fairytale world. Good thing that Ygritte's supposed prince might actually be <i>his</i> true love instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	just around the corner, might be waiting your own true love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TotemundTabu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TotemundTabu/gifts).



> sooo, I was asked for 'throbb enchanted AU', which admittedly was entirely too good for me because that movie is like, my not so guilty pleasure and listen I really like it okay, WHAT CAN I DO. So I was considering it and then thought 'hey wait a moment it works a lot better if they're the *other* couple, not the main one'. This happened. The crack is beyond control, I'm sorry to say.
> 
> Obligatory disclaimers: they aren't mine, the basic plot is disney's, the title is from Neil Young and I honestly have no excuses but I had way too much fun with this for my own good.

It’s not that Theon thought that he and Jon had a _true love for the ages_  thing going on at any point whatsoever.

He never quite thought that. Jon never did either. He _knows_  that. They both did. After all, they did go into that arrangement being full upfront about it.

Fact is, when they met for the first time in that group home they both spent the latter part of their teenage years in and in which they were roommates, they used to snipe at each other fairly often at the beginning, and Theon thought that Snow was seriously stuck up before learning that it was more of a matter of  _if I try to strive for perfection maybe I’ll get someone to adopt me even if I’m older than fourteen_. Theon never even tried for that - he _knew_  he was baggage and that no one looking at his file would have even thought about even asking for an interview. At some point they sniped at each other just out of habit, and by the time they were eighteen and absolutely  _not_  ready to face the real world, they had become sort of friends. They had no contact info to exchange though - it was the years where kids didn’t have cellphones, especially kids _in the foster system,_ so Theon had lost track of the man until he met him again by chance ten years later.

In ten years, Jon Snow had put himself through law school, became a fairly decent divorce lawyer even if he did a lot of pro bono work on the side, lived in a nice condo and had actually taken in a kid from that same foster home they were both in - on his own. He had told Theon that he’d had some relationships in uni and one was almost serious, but the woman in question wasn’t interested in having kids and the likes, and _he_  wanted the family he never had at some point.

On _his_  side, Theon had finished fashion school with a scolarship and had done fairly decently for himself, except for those three years after uni ended in which he had the _terrible_  idea to hook up with fucking Ramsay Bolton, who should have _never_  been an assistant to his advisor in uni. Theon should have never accepted to go out for drinks with him, or to move in with him, but - well.

He _did_  find it in himself to leave, find a shelter and press charges. By the time he met Jon again, he hadn’t opened his own fashion business - yet - but the one he works at is good, pays him well and he thinks he has good career prospects, and he had put himself back in a healthy shape, thanks very much. So, they met by chance in a coffee shop.

They had talked. Exchanged numbers. Then saw each other some more. And at some point - it came up. Jon wouldn’t have changed his situation for the world, but he felt bad about not being with Arya as much as he could have, and Theon - well, Theon _had_  had his number of fantasies about, well, spending his adult life with someone he  _liked_. He could feel why Jon would have wanted that family for himself. They almost proposed it as a deal, but - Jon didn’t have any luck finding partners, Theon was wary of trying with strangers but his work didn’t leave him much choice, they knew each other already, they _knew_  they could work fairly decently and Arya didn’t dislike Theon outright.

So they figured that they might as well get married. And Theon never thought that it could be a _fairytale love_  thing, but maybe a solid and reliable marriage based on friendship is underrated. So they started putting thought into it. They were going to move together in a month and book a judge in three.

That was the plan.

Until the red-haired _foreigner who had never been to London_  showed up out of nowhere and ran into Theon while walking out of Jon’s shower, naked.

Well, Jon’s story was that he and Arya met her in the middle of the road and the woman had lost her passport and so on, but given that if Theon knew _something_  about Jon was that he wasn’t the cheating kind, he hadn’t taken it _that_  well. He could work with open relationships, _if discussed first_.

Anyway, they had argued. Then someone brought him a bunch of flowers, _tickets to a ball_  and chocolate at his office door and it had turned out that apparently the red-headed foreigner, whose name is Ygritte and  _honestly_  is weird because she has clothes that look out of that Robin Hood Disney movie or some _medieval_  setting anyway, is honestly lost in London, is waiting for her _boyfriend_  - she said prince, but Theon figured she was being metaphorical - to come get her and the whole flowers and ball get-up was her idea.

She openly told Theon, for that matter.  _I’m sorry you understood that wrong but don’t worry, I think my true love is out there somewhere and he’ll get here at some point. Also,_ I _wouldn’t personally be swayed with that kind of thing but everyone seems to like flowers and dancing, and Jon here knows really nothing about romance, so I figured I’d give him a hand. Honestly, I didn’t mean to come in between you or anything_. Theon had accepted the excuses, it was obvious, and - well. He could appreciate that Jon invited him to a  _ball_  when Jon always hated dancing and Theon loved it, and it gives him a chance to dress up nicely, so - why not?

Sure, there’s the part where he’s somewhat sure that Jon isn’t  _not_  attracted to Ygritte, not that he can’t see the point in it - she’s  _something_. Maybe a bit too forward for Theon, but she has a lovely smile, that red hair almost looks on fire in the sunlight and the way she moves and acts is just - she seems from another world completely.

Anyway, Theon had gone to the ball and taken the chance to use some old-fashioned clothing experiment that he had made himself back when he was studying - they were supposed to create a Reinassance-esque set of clothes out of thin air and he didn’t have any models, so he just wore it himself for that one time. He had made it all of black silk and velvet with discrete golden embroidering and it still fits him - good. Jon had come with some equally old-fashioned black costume that he must have bought for the occasion, and everything had gone as usual -

Until they ran into Ygritte and _her boyfriend_. Or better, he was introduced as _her prince_ again and admittedly, he did look like one.

The supposed prince also has red bright hair and enormous blue eyes and a face out of a bloody Renaissance painting and who was dressed in what seemed _proper_  Middle Ages attire - certainly the dark grey attire and light grey tunic on him seemed out of a museum. He even has a fake sword and some leather boots that have definitely been used up a lot. On the other side, Ygritte was wearing _regular_  clothing. A nice, long green silk dress, for that matter. Which was strange, given that he hadn’t seen her wear a skirt until that point.

Anyway. The boyfriend had introduced himself as Robb. Ygritte’s  _prince._  Then he had launched in a rant about how she was his heart’s true desire and a lot of crap like that which seemed out of a bloody fairytale, except that he seemed to _mean_  it completely and Theon couldn’t help saying that it just sounded _that_  nice. Robb had thanked him and had grinned widely at him and asked something like _Jon, you hadn’t said your intended was so fair_.

Okay. Theon had been flattered, all right? At some point they said people should swap partners and Jon and Ygritte had seemed entirely too happy to concede, while Robb had seemed happy enough to dance with him.

Theon had swallowed and gone with it - Jon wasn’t seeming to enjoying the dancing _that much_ , but then again he never did.

Robb, on the other side, had seemed to _greatly_  enjoy it.

“Well,” he had said after not long, “you’re quite good at this.”

“Uh, thank you,” Theon had stammered. “I mean, I enjoy it when I can.”

“Why, does - _Jon_  not like it?”

“Well, let’s say there’s things he likes doing more,” Theon had replied diplomatically as he glanced at the other side of the room. Given how much those two were twirling right in the middle of it, he certainly had seemed to like it _more_  than his usual. “So I figured I’d grab my chance. It’s been fun.”

“At least something _similar_ ,” Robb had huffed under his breath.

“Sorry, to what?”

“Never mind, it’s not important. So, I imagine you and Jon are bound to marry soon, aren’t you?”

“Probably,” Theon had replied. “Nothing as fancy as the vows you just said, but -”

“And why not?” Robb had sounded like it was perfectly normal that you _would_  launch into that kind of rant.

“It’s just - I don’t think it works like _that_ , not for us, but we could be happy, I think.”

“As long as you are,” Robb had agreed, still staring at him and twirling him around the dance floor. And all right, he also wasn’t stomping on Theon’s feet or anything. Dancing with Robb was fairly  _nice_ , all right?

Then the music had stopped and Robb told Ygritte something about going back to _Westeros_  - _what_? - and they had gone up the stairs and Theon had figured that was it, even if Jon looked crestfallen at seeing her go. He was about to ask.

Really.

Then _the entire fucking mess had happened_ , and now - listen, Theon has no bloody clue of how they ended up with Ygritte having dropped on the ground almost lifeless with an _apple_  in her hands, Robb kneeling at her side, some old hag who told Robb that like _hell_  she was going to let him marry when _she_  was his uncle’s wife and only heir and that she had wanted Winterfell for so long, she wasn’t going to let some stupid wildling _steal_  it from her, Jon's face turning pale as a sheet and -

Theon doesn’t know what the fuck is going on here, but it seems like the bad part of a fairytale come true.

“I see it’s almost midnight,” the old hag says. “Say your goodbyes to your _true love_ , Robb.”

“Barbrey, I swear I’m going to _murder_  you -” Robb starts -

“Hey,” Jon interrupts, still looking pale as a sheet. “I mean, if you’re her - true love, I mean - doesn’t the true love’s kiss thing work? She seemed to believe in it, at least.”

“Gods, you’re a _genius_ ,” Robb agrees at once, and then -

Barbrey or whatever her name is seems to want to put a stop to it but before she can Robb has kneeled down over Ygritte and he’s kissing her -

And nothing happens.

“What?” Robb seems fairly surprised about it. He leans down and kisses her again. Nothing. The clock is ticking. Jon is as pale as a sheet. Robb looks at Jon and then -

Then he _smiles_?

And he stands up before moving behind Barbrey and grabbing her arm in what seems like a fairly strong hold.

“Jon, do it.”

“ _What_?”

For being someone who just found out his true love is _not_ , in fact, his  _true love_ , Robb seems remarkably cheerful.

“I think it’s obvious that it wasn’t me,” he says. “It’s fine. Happens. But I think there’s a likely chance it’s you. And midnight’s coming.”

Jon turns towards him and sends Theon a fairly panicked look, as if he’s _gutted_  that he might actually be the person in question, but -

See, Theon had never thought that he and Jon had a _true love_  thing going on. And the thing is that he remembers the fairytales his mother told him as bedtime stories before she died. Every time that he imagined the way the princes looked at the bloody princesses, he imagined a look like the one Jon was sending Ygritte while they were dancing.

“I’ve only known her a few days, it’s not possible -” Jon starts.

“Kiss her,” Theon says as the clock starts ticking.

“What?”

“Jon, come on. We both knew it was a good arrangement, but - kiss her. It’s fine. _Do it_ , damn it, I don’t want her on my fucking conscience.”

Jon swallows and moves towards Ygritte, kneels down as the clock winds down, cradles her head in his hands gingerly and then brings her upwards and kisses her just as the clock strikes midnight.

Nothing happens for a moment, but then Ygritte takes in a deep breath and her chest shakes and her face goes from dead-pale to rosy all over again and she looks up Jon and -

“I didn’t think it could be me,” he says, his voice barely audible.

“You know nothing, Jon Snow,” she huffs, and then she moves up and she kisses him again as the room erupts in applause.

Theon applauds as well.

There’s no point in being sour over this.

Then _Barbrey_ turns into a bloody fucking dragon and hell breaks loose.

–

Some time later, the fuck knows how long, he’s sitting on the floor in the dance hall - Robb sent him back there when he realized that things might get dangerous outside and told him to stay safe. Whatever - not the point.

He shrugs as he takes in the sight of his wet clothes - given that it was velvet it’s all probably ruined. He kicks off his shoes - they’re so wet they’re becoming uncomfortable - runs a hand through his hair and then notices that one of Ygritte’s flats is on the floor in front of him.

Jesus Christ. Snow White first, the fucking Sleeping Beauty next, then there was the _dragon_ , now bloody Cinderella? Really? In which alternate universe ran by fairytale rules did he even end up? He grabs the flat - it’s a nice dark red, matching Ygritte’s hair, and turns it between his hands.

Then -

“I’m sorry,” Robb says, and Theon almost shouts at it - he didn’t hear him coming. He’s sitting next to him, too, his clothes also completely wet and his red hair plastered to his forehead. “I mean,” he says, “I wouldn’t be the person to stand in between true love and everything, and if I wasn’t hers then she should be with the right person. But I can see that you’re not that pleased.”

Theon shrugs, figuring that it’s useless to lie. Not when someone’s looking at you with such concern. “It’s fine. It’s just - we _didn’t_  love each other that way. It’s okay, I knew that. But - well, we met in a foster home.”

“What?”

“Sorry?”

“I don’t know what that is?”

“Where do you even come from?”

“Uh, Westeros?”

“Okay, you’re gonna have to explain that to me later. An orphanage?”

“Oh, all right. Go on.”

“I was there because - well, most of my family died in a car accident way back in the day except my father, I spent a few quality years with him during which he was - well, drunk all day, and then he died too, and - well. Jon was my roommate. We got along. We met again years later after I went through - a rough patch? We could say that. And I thought - well, maybe we didn’t _love_  each other like _that_ , but enough that we could build something together, you know? And I know that he’s a lot better off with her, it was obvious, but - that kind of leaves me - where I started from. I guess. And where the fuck is Westeros?”

“Er,” Robb sighs, “I guess it’s not - it’s - another world.”

“ _What_?”

“There’s a secret passage to it. Next to the Piccadilly Line. Or so I’m told it’s called.”

“… Wait, so you’re actually - that was all - _that_  was because you come from some _happy fairytale kingdom_?”

“Westeros isn’t exactly a _happy_  place to be in,” Robb shrugs, “and honestly your world looks a lot better to me in that sense, at least people don’t openly try to kill their family to rule over a damned castle. Always knew Barbrey had bad intentions, but - eh. I guess I should get ready to go back.”

“You don’t seem that happy about it.”

“Why would I be? She’s gone, I was the only heir because my parents died a while ago but she made it so that I wouldn’t get any practice in  _ruling_  or anything, so the moment I go back I have to rule over a kingdom on my own without experience or anyone else helping me out, the prospect is hardly fun.”

Theon can see the point in it.

“Well, I guess I should go to Jon’s place before _they_  get there and grab what stuff I have left over. Better be done with it sooner rather than later.”

He hoped to say that straight. Instead, to his own horror, he sobs over the last three words.

“Hey,” Robb starts, and suddenly there’s a hand on his shoulder. “Listen, uh, this probably sounds ridiculous and out of place and I barely know you, but from what I’m seeing you really deserve better than being someone’s second best. Or someone’s settling. Or to - well, settle. I know I wouldn’t want to be someone people _settle_  for. I can’t imagine that you would, too.”

And that’s fairly nice to hear, but -

“That’s lovely of you to say, but I don’t think I have much of a chance to aim higher than that. Hell, Jon was - it worked before we  _knew_  each other. The - uh, the rough patch I was talking about before? It was because I hooked up with someone I didn’t know well and who managed to get under my skin before revealing his true colors and I’m really - I can’t trust people that easily in general. But I’ll get over it. I just, I don’t think it’s in the cards. Fairytales happen to other people, not me.”

 _If you think this has an happy ending you hadn’t been paying attention_ , Ramsay had said once.

Theon remembers that even too well. He thought he might have found a relatively happy one, but -

Robb gives him a _stare_  and then notices his bare feet - he’s sitting with one knee up to his chest and the other leg just resting on the ground.

And then he grabs the flat from Theon’s hand and his free one goes to Theon’s ankle. Then he _smirks_.

“You mind?”

“ _What_?”

“Can I try this?”

“Come on,” Theon says, and he smiles in spite of himself, “it’s  _never_  gonna fit. I’m a _man_ , there’s no way we have the same size.”

Even if he _did_  always have a fairly small size compared to the average.

“Well, I think I saw _enough_  of my future bride before she was thrown over here from Westeros. She didn’t have _tiny_  feet. And even if it doesn’t, just humor me.”

It’s probably the _fairytale prince_  factor that makes Theon shrug and let Robb drag his foot forward. You can’t really resist someone looking at you like that.

Robb slowly, carefully slips the shoe on his foot.

And good fucking grief - maybe it’s a _bit_  tight, but -

“Well, not a _completely perfect_  fit but I think it doesn’t matter now, does it?” Robb is grinning as he speaks.

Shit, he _could_  walk with this thing on, Theon realizes.

“I guess it doesn’t,” he replies, and his throat suddenly _hurts,_ but not in the bad way.

“I was wondering,” Robb says slowly, still _looking_  at him. “You said you have no family here?”

“No,” Theon replies truthfully.

“Do you _like_  it here?”

“I don’t hate it,” Theon says. “I mean, I survived before, I’ll survive now -”

“And what if you came to Westeros with me?”

For a moment he doesn’t even understand the question, but then -

“ _What_?”

Robb is still keeping a hand around his ankle. “I could go back on my own. But - I’m not sure I _want_  to. And I can assure you I wouldn’t ask you as a second choice.”

“Robb -”

“I told you. I _wouldn’t_ want to be a second choice and I wouldn’t be asking you if I didn’t think that maybe this wasn’t meant to be.”

God. God, he fucking _means_  it. He’s looking uttermost sincere and what did Theon just say before? Fairytales happen to other people?

He can’t really believe that they might be happening to _him_ , but then again hadn’t he felt attracted to the guy the moment they were introduced?

He swallows.

“You think I might go for a test drive?”

“… As in?”

“Maybe you should kiss me first and see how it goes?”

“Gladly,” Robb cuts him, and then -

Fuck.

Okay.

Maybe fairytales _do_  happen to him, too, because when Robb touches the back of his head and drags him forward ever so slightly and then kisses him, it’s just - he’s kissed plenty of people. He’s kissed people he thought he was halfway falling for. He’s been kissed by a few people he thought he could have a serious thing with.

 _Nothing_  was quite like this. Robb’s hands cup his face first, nicely and delicately, then he kisses the corner of his mouth first before moving to his lips, and there he doesn’t _push_  but just waits for him to open up and when he does -

Christ, he didn’t know _fairytale princes_ could kiss in a way that’s both filthy and absolutely endearing - there’s Robb grabbing him around the waist with a certain possessiveness that Theon doesn’t mind at all, he has no scruples using his tongue when he wants to, and at the same time it’s so focused that his head is about to spin. He doesn’t think anyone’s ever kissed him this intently in his entire life and when Robb finally moves away after biting down softly on his lower lip, he’s grinning.

“I should hope that at least in this world _that_  doesn’t work differently.”

“No,” Theon replies, still wondering if he’s dreaming this entire thing. “No it doesn’t.”

Robb grins all over again and Theon -

Theon thinks it’s high time he takes a leap of faith, here.

“Okay,” he says, “I think I’m coming with you. As long as you don’t do anything like _break out_ _in song_  over the way my eyes light up your day or whatever it is you said about Ygritte before, because no way I’m surviving the embarrassment.”

“Well,” Robb agrees, “she didn’t seem too keen on singing and the likes, either. I think I can live with it.”

His hands move back and grasp at Theon’s - Theon is painfully aware that Robb’s most probably feeling that two fingers on his left aren’t quite bent right, but then he stands up and pulls Theon upwards with him.

“So, shall we?” He asks.

“Yes,” Theon replies.

“Good,” Robb says. “This world isn’t too bad but I think you might like mine.”

“Well, if that’s where _you_  come from, I guess I’m game to find out.”

Robb laughs in a way that makes Theon want to do the same, and no one notices them as the leave the building hand in hand.

Then he realizes that he only has _one_  shoe on, technically, but -

Piccadilly’s not far and he thinks he doesn’t really mind. After all, it’s _his_  damned fairytale ending, he might as well see through it.

 

End.


End file.
